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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261703">Visitations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes'>sadstone_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Steel [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Memory Loss, Mentions of Violence, Original Character - Freeform, Other, he's so good, i promise they'll be out of the hospital soon, kinda angsty, kinda hurt comfort, piotr is just trying his best, they/them pronouns, this will be like the last one while they're just stuck in the med bay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:47:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>set after Fractured Psyche and First Night, covers a weeklong period of Lane’s recovery process. </p><p>Alright, here is what we’ve all been waiting for - some self indulgent interaction with our favorite metal boyscout. This one's a big angsty and I had a lot of fun writing it. This should be the last in the medbay stories, after this we'll have some more mansion (and outside) interactions that I'm really looking forward to!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Piotr Rasputin/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Celestial Steel [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re up early,” Hank observed as Piotr came into the medical lab. It was around 7 in the morning on a bright Sunday; prime time to sleep in for most students and faculty. Hank was awake, but Piotr didn’t fail to notice the extra large mug of coffee that the doctor held in his hands. “Are you here to grab Wade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr blinked. “Wade?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been in their room since we first got them cleared to have guests. Hasn’t slept, or showered.” Hank wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I keep telling him I’ll slip him a sedative if he doesn’t get some rest, but he threatened to replace my body wash with Nair. I’m not too keen to call him on his bluff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr chuckled, his expression turning contemplative as he looked out past Hank’s laboratory space and into the hallway where the recovery rooms were located. “How is sh-they?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, as good as can be, given the circumstances. Their mental cognition is improving rapidly, but it takes them a bit to process new information.”  Hank paused to take a large draw from his mug, wiping away a coffee mustache that formed on his upper lip. “And as much as I complain about him, Wade has been helpful in their recovery. He gets them to open up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have shared history from what Wade has said, familiarity is probably comforting to them.” Piotr said, a bit of the tension draining from his shoulders. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t been thinking about the strange guest who had shown up so unexpectedly, especially after the initial introduction was a blast to the face and an all-out brawl. He had been worried - both for the safety of his students, and for Lane. “And their memories?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jean and the Professor have been working with them on memory reconstruction, but it’s slow going. The earliest intact ones they were able to find was at The Workshop. Anything before or after that is hit or miss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even the fight on the interstate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank nodded. “Even that. We think that the trauma they experienced from seeing Wade was like a hard-reset, not unlike a form of shock. It’s coming back to them in bits and pieces, but the Professor is hesitant to let it all slip at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr nodded back. That might have been for the best, all things considered; in his experience, fights weren’t good first impressions. It had taken a while for Russell to come around to viewing him as more than ‘Robocop’ after their first meeting had ended so disastrously. All had ended well, but the relationship had taken a while to form after everything was said and done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to go in and see them if you like.” Hank announced, taking a seat behind his desk and pouring more coffee into his already empty mug. “Maybe convince Wade to bathe while you’re in there? Otherwise I’m tossing him into the chemical shower first chance I get.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it safe?” Piotr asked. “They are not hostile towards strangers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what we’ve observed so far, they’re more confused about other people than anything. Relearning to be social and what not. Just be gentle, no sudden movements or intense lines of questioning. Nothing to cause any need for alarm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr felt his stomach drop a bit at Hank’s request; deep down, he still had the image of that figure in black bursting out of the crushed semi. Fighting him tooth and nail, throwing themself in their assault no matter how hard he knocked them down. To imagine that energy, now cornered and confused - something about that made Piotr on high alert as he departed the lab and went down the hallway to Lane’s room. He opened the door and stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the medical recovery rooms were fundamentally the same, minus their occupants. A small room with walls made out of metal panelling, a hospital bed with one or two assorted chairs beside it, and a small bathroom/shower area off to the side. It wasn’t homey by any means, but it was clean and sleek like the rest of the decor on the lower levels below the main house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane was sitting in their bed staring at the ceiling, Wade softly snoring in the chair at their side. Their expression was difficult to read; a cross between a dreamy, far off look and one of deep contemplation. They didn’t move whenever Piotr’s heavy footsteps plodded into the room, but the sound did rouse Wade who awoke with a start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh shit, are you my sexy nurse come to give me a colonoscopy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nyet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Wade. Hank desires that you get some rest and shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks, Little Tin Soldier. Just toss me a baby wipe and I’ll take an airplane bath - under the wings and beneath the tail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr crossed his arms and frowned. “Wade, please. We need to keep area sanitary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll even let you supervise me if I miss a spot.” He shot back with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr groaned; this wasn’t working. Time for a different approach. “Hank has made coffee in his lab.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet brown liquid of the gods,” Wade moaned, leaning back in his chair. “Be a dear and bring me a cup? Maybe make it an Irish coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A solemn look squashed that request. “Ugh, fine.” Wade groaned, standing from his chair. “But so help me if I come back and they’re already in full X-geek regalia.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave Lane a look and a small, sincere smile. “I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m not going anywhere, but daddy needs his go-go juice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That left Lane and Piotr alone. They still hadn’t moved or made any indication of acknowledging his presence. He took a step forward and gave them a quick look, trying not to linger but curious to get a better look as their first meeting had been so rushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were still pale, but more from lack of sunlight than illness as opposed to when they had first arrived. Their hair was beginning to grow back, still shorn close to their skull but not as severe as their buzzcut had been; less soldier-like. Deep set eyes with dark circles, green irises and half-lidded with the same far-away look as when they had first been pulled onto the jet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing the look in their eyes, Piotr came to stand at the side of their bed. “Lane, are you okay? Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Lane blinked, and Piotr let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The consciousness had returned to their eyes, and they regarded him curiously. “Oh, wow. You’re shiny. Have we met before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr hesitated, taking a seat in Wade’s vacant chair. “I brought you onto the plane, to bring you here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Lane swallowed and looked down. “I’m sorry, everything is...fuzzy. Did you tell me your name already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Piotr, but you can call me Pete. Easier to pronounce.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piotr...P-yot-er...” Lane repeated it to themselves under their breath. “That’s a nice name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is Russian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded. “I figured as much from the accent. You must be a long way from home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr nodded, smiling a bit as he made gentle conversation with Lane. They talked about his home in Russia - the farm, the animals he had tended to - and Piotr found himself enjoying their company. They were attentive and pleasant, but sometimes would have to pause for a moment or two, a lag in getting their words to their lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in the middle of Piotr telling a story about his favorite cow that their face fell. Their eyes shifted to the same expression they had been wearing only moments before, the same as it had been when they were first pulled onto the jet. Hazy and glassy, focused on something far away; he turned in his chair to see if there was something that had upset them, only to find that they were staring at an empty wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Piotr asked, leaning forward in the chair. “Should I get Dr. McCoy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Lane blinked, and then it was gone. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr’s stomach dropped, uncertain of what exactly to say as Lane continued to eye him. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything as Wade burst into the room, holding a cup of coffee in each hand. He lapsed into comfortable chatter with Lane about everything and nothing, and Piotr let out a breath of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank was right, they did open up around Wade. Their expressions and movements were less reserved, they even smiled a few times - unsteady and flitting across their lips as soon as it had come, but a smile nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Baby steps</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Piotr surmised, quietly excusing himself from the room. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The second time when Piotr entered the lab, this time carrying a small tupperware full of treats, it was in the midst of an argument. Wade, the Professor, Hank, and (much to his surprise) Logan all were standing in the lab. Wade was pacing, a key sign that he was upset, and talking animatedly with his hands. The Professor was significantly calmer, but there was visible frustration on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We talked about this before Mr. Wilson.” The Professor said. “There is no easy way to break the news to them about their past and we cannot simply force the memories -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have a right to know who they are, good or bad. You can’t keep that from them forever.” Wade shot back. “It’s not fair to them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Professor fixed him with a sharp look. “We aren’t keeping it from them. It’s important to have a strong structure in their mind before we attempt something that could affect them so negatively. They’re too vulnerable right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> they going to be vulnerable?” Logan chimed in. “They’d probably take the news better coming from you then having it show up in a nightmare later on. Rip the bandaid off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and what’s to say that once they start remembering the bad stuff, all the other stuff comes back?” Wade asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Professor let out a sigh. “There’s no guarantee either way, Mr. Wilson. That’s what makes the entire act of memory restoration so complicated. There is no way to tell what will surface along with it, what emotions can emerge, what connects back to what. It’s dangerous for everyone involved, especially with someone as volatile as Lane.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do they know about all of this? Coming here, the truck.” Hank asked, his back turned to the group and rummaging through a filing cabinet. He was clearly trying to avoid the high intensity of the conversation, and Piotr couldn’t blame him.  Part of him wanted to walk back out of the lab and come back later when this all had blown over, but he couldn’t get his feet to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They know that they were involved in an incident on the interstate and were found by Mr. Wilson, and that he aided our team in bringing them here. They do not perceive us as any sort of threat, and as of right now they believe that we are helping to facilitate them in their recovery. All of which is true.” The Professor said, a note of finality in his voice that was quickly shattered as Logan spoke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That still leaves out some pretty big chunks of time, Chuck.” Logan pointed out. “Seems more like a lie by omission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Professor closed his eyes tightly. “I’m aware of that, Logan. I’m aware of how all of this sounds, how unfair and upsetting this all is, but what you all have failed to remember is that there is no right way to do this. As a matter of fact, there is no guarantee that we will ever be able to help them fully recover to who they were prior to the Workshop. All we can do is get them as stable as possible, and right now that means keeping certain parts of their past hidden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That ignited a new round of the argument, Wade calling the Professor a multitude of profanities, then turning on Logan as the other man tried to pull him out of the lab. Hank caught Piotr’s eye, motioning for him to go ahead into Lane’s room as the argument continued.  Piotr nodded his head in understanding, stepping past the two men arguing and going back into the hall of recovery rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on out there?” Lane asked as he pushed open their door. “I thought I heard yelling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, just Wade being Wade.” Piotr swallowed and quickly tried to change the subject. He brought up the tupperware he had been carrying into the lab. “Have you eaten yet? I brought something special my</span>
  <em>
    <span> mamochka</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to make when I was sick. Breakfast treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel sick, just...odd.” Lane clarified as they sat up in the bed. They were looking better by the day, more color returning to their face and their eyes starting to have a healthy shine to them.  “Which maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> mean I’m sick. I dunno. What’d you bring?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blinis with apricot jam. Sort of like pancakes. They aren’t very healthy, but make people happy.” Piotr smiled, opening the lid and letting Lane look inside. “Medical bay is not very happy place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He produced two forks from his pocket and handed one to Lane, briefly considering the fact that, theoretically, they could use it as a weapon against him, if need be. Lane hadn’t shown any outward signs of falling into their old tendencies, but the fact had been there in his mind. He felt guilty for thinking that as they took a large bite of one of the blinis and let out a happy sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy hell, these are phenomenal Piotr.” They paused. “Did I say your name right that time? I’ve been practicing. Wade says I sound like a broken record.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another stab of guilt hit his chest. He tried to brush it off and nodded. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Da</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If you’d like, I can help you learn more Russian.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had the time. You’re already a teacher, right? Like Ororo and the others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. Not as good as his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mamochka</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
  <em>
    <span>s</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but close. “We all teach here, try to teach students what we can. I teach art and Russian. Ororo teaches earth science and religious studies, Logan teaches history -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He must be an interesting teacher,” Lane interjected, reaching for another bite with their fork. “He’s an interesting guy. He’s been in here to see me a few times, talks about his motorcycle a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr smiled, pushing the container closer to them. “The students are quite fond of him. Says he ‘helps bring class to life’ with stories. Tells things how they really happened, supposedly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That led into a discussion on whether or not Logan had actually been in the Civil War, trying to guess how old he actually was (a nearly impossible task with his healing factor) which spiraled off into various depths of absurdity. Lane had a sense of humor similar to Wade’s, but less snarky and borderline inappropriate. They asked questions and made jokes, and it was getting harder for Piotr to believe that less than a week ago, they had been trying to kill each other on the interstate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still there were remnants, signs that they weren’t exactly...all there, for lack of a better term. Sometimes they would drop eye contact mid-sentence, or become increasingly interested in one spot on their blanket and pick at the threads before coming back to the conversation like nothing had happened. Nothing quite as drastic as their episodes - dissociation states, loops of mental feedback - whatever the Professor and Dr. McCoy had taken to calling them, it hadn’t made it any easier to understand when, or why, they happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now though, it was peaceful. Or, as peaceful as it could’ve been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you, there’s no way that the Egyptians could have built the pyramids without aliens.” Lane exclaimed, pointing at him with the end of their fork. “It’s impossible otherwise. Ask Logan, he was probably there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was laughing, shaking his head. “And I am telling you, you’re spending too much time with Wade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s better than having Scott sitting here looking like he’s trying to dismantle an atomic bomb.” They rolled their eyes. “You’d think I was dangerous by the way he looks at me like I’m about to bite his head off. I coughed once and I think he almost crapped his pants.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr bit his lip and quickly stuffed a bite of blini into his mouth. “You are close with Wade, </span>
  <em>
    <span>da</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He asked, once again trying to divert the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Da</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they mimicked, licking jam off of their hands. “Not like, in a weird way or anything. More like in a ‘he’s the first person I met who tried not to kill me’ way. I still can’t believe he found me on that interstate after all those years. I mean really, what are the odds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not as big as you’d think,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Piotr thought, handing them a napkin to wipe their hands off with. Lying didn’t sit easy with him, but if it was to not upset them further when they were already so fragile, did that somehow make it better? He wasn’t sure, able to understand both Wade’s and the Professor’s side of the argument they had been having earlier. Grey areas like this made him uncomfortable, part of the reason he had been so hesitant to trust Wade in the beginning; that man practically lived in a morally grey area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are your sessions going with Professor and Jean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh,” Lane scrunched up their face and gave a sideways wave of their hand. “So-so. They say I have a lot of ‘mental blockage’ whatever that means. I like Jean, though.” They frowned, idly twisting their fork between their fingers. “The Professor is nice, but I really feel like...I dunno, I’m letting him down by not being able to remember more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are doing the best to your ability,” Piotr assured them, giving them a sympathetic smile. “It is tough time for you, do not be too hard on yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.” They shrugged. “A lot of things in my head don’t make sense right now, I can’t imagine what it’s like on the outside looking in. And apparently, the black outs I have aren’t healthy for me, either. Wade calls it a mental check-out, but that almost makes it sound like a vacation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where you go?” Piotr asked, a look of concern appearing on the edge of his features. “When you go to this mental-check out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane shook their head. “No idea, but I have a feeling that’s why the last five years are so hard to remember. How else could I have missed the fact they made five new Star Wars movies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took younger students to movies when premiered, but honestly, I fell asleep through most.” He admitted. “Perhaps once you are better, I could get refresher?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A corner of Lane’s mouth quirked upwards. Emoting had been difficult for Lane, which made the half-smile all the more special for Piotr.  “Tell you what, if I ever do get better, I’ll put on a whole marathon in exchange for some Russian lessons.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jean was waiting for him outside of the medical wing as he entered the hallway. She looked tired, and her voice was full of worry as he approached. “I just want to give you a heads up. They had a bad session today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How so?” Piotr asked, throwing down his gym bag onto a chair. It was Saturday morning after his daily workout, around the same time he had been coming to see Lane for the last week or so; they seemed to favor consistency. They had begun to open up more, and part of him had started to look forward to talking to them, seeing their personality beginning to emerge. “They seemed fine last time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were trying to work on some of their pre-Workshop memories and we kept hitting a wall. They got frustrated, and then that turned to anger.” Jean sighed. “After that, it all went downhill; some memories of their various missions for their employer started to surface, memories of the fight on the interstate, and with that came a lot of guilt. Now they won’t let anyone near them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they okay?” Piotr paused, looking down at Jean’s haggard expression. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well we figured out that in order to create those blasts, they need to absorb radiation. They haven’t absorbed enough of it lately to be dangerous.” Jean took a seat on one of the plush waiting room chairs and put a hand to her temple, softly rubbing with her fingers. “That still doesn’t take away their fighting ability, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders slumped, a section of her hair coming out of it’s plait and adding to the drained appearance. “And I’m fine, it’s just...frustrating. We were making good progress, figuring out how their mind works. The mental conditioning they underwent causes them to experience a heightened sense of aggression, no doubt to make them a better soldier. But along with that, all these other emotions got pushed to the side - grief, guilt, sadness - and their brain just doesn’t know how to deal with those.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mental check-out,” Piotr mumbled. “And the Professor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In there with Hank, trying to figure out what the best way to sedate them would be. ” She jerked her thumb to the lab. “Their healing factor makes it so that they metabolize sedatives a lot quicker than normal. And the way their brain is right now, the Professor isn’t too keen on going back inside, it might just agitate them more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Wade? He is the person closest to Lane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Out on an emergency X-Force mission and not picking up his phone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a particularly loud bang from inside the lab that made the two mutants jump. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bozhe moi</span>
  </em>
  <span> what are they doing in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last I saw they had started punching the walls inside their exam room.” Jean replied, shaking her head and moving to stand. “Better than punching anyone else, I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the walls in there are metal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t seem that they care at the moment.” Even fully raised up from her chair, Jean had to look upwards to meet his eyes. “They remind me of Logan when he first came here, just in a smaller package.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A scary thought.” Piotr half-chuckled, reminiscing of when Logan had first arrived at the mansion several years earlier. He had been angry and confused, and quickly made it known that he wasn’t looking for any friends. That had changed, eventually, but those first couple of months had been rocky, to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still going to go in there?” Jean asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Da</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sounds like they need someone to talk to that they won’t hurt. And I doubt Logan would be quite as...patient.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably right on both accounts. Just...be careful, okay Pete? I know you’re made of metal but that didn’t stop them the first time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr quickly made his way inside the lab, moving past Hank and the Professor and back into the hallway - they called after him, but it fell on deaf ears as he continued his journey. He could hear the loud banging noises getting louder as he came closer, and he stopped just outside their door. Piotr wasn’t afraid, not really, more anxious than anything as he heard the sounds of their punches against the wall inside. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out.” Lane’s voice greeted him in a low whimper. They were facing the far corner, shoulders hunched and breathing ragged. They had been given a loose sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants instead of their usual medical gown, and Piotr was grateful for that as they stood with their back to him. “Get out </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr hadn’t stepped over the threshold yet, hanging onto the frame with his large hands. “You throw good punches, why are you wasting them on wall?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood only to feel it wither in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clang.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I can’t!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clang. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Remember!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clang.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Every other word was punctuated with a hard punch to the wall that sent a loud metallic sound into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I can’t remember my family, or my favorite food, or even my last </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>name. They took everything from me, everything that could’ve been good about me, and left me with...</span>
  <em>
    <span>this!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned away from the corner and let out a sound that was like a cross between a growl and a choked sob. Their fists were clenched tight, blood dripping from their split knuckles, eyes ablaze and face contorted in a mix of rage and grief. They took a step towards him, every movement sharp and purposeful like an animal stalking its prey, and for a moment Piotr was thrust back to that fight on the interstate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys didn’t find me out there, you were sent there to </span>
  <em>
    <span>contain</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. That’s why everyone is afraid of me. And...they’re right to be.” Their eyes had focused on him now, filled with rage. “Did you just happen to forget that? Were you all going to let it slide that I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking monster?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t your fault and you know it.” Piotr replied, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He anchored himself to the ground, trying his best to keep calm despite his fight or flight instinct sounding alarms in the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!” Another hard punch to the wall, followed by a cracking noise in their hand that made Piotr wince. “You should’ve just let the DMC have me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not common criminal and you are not to blame for this, Lane.” Piotr said, standing his ground as they came less than a foot from him. “You were not acting of your own will, and nobody blames you for what happened -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop saying that!” They yelled, their hands briefly glowing. Piotr gulped, wondering if Jean had been incorrect in her assumption of Lane’s powers after all and if he was about to get blasted through the wall. But the blast never came. Instead, Lane sank down onto their knees, holding their hands in their lap, looking down at the stars in their palms. All the anger in their eyes had dissipated, and all that was left was a solid layer of despair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t you just leave me alone, huh? Why even bother after I hurt you? Just...leave me alone. Save yourself the trouble. I’ll just...I’ll go...” Lane paused, screwing up their face. “Fuck. I can’t even remember where </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr went down to his knees as well, against his better judgement, sitting himself on the floor in front of them. “I’m so sorry, Lane. You don’t deserve any of what’s happening to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know that, and neither do I.” They retorted weakly, all the strength to fight had been sapped out of their body by the sudden outburst. “I can’t remember anything about the person I was before the Workshop, all I have are these memories of doing bad things. I don’t…” their breathing hitched, and they dropped their head. “I don’t deserve to be here with everyone trying to help me. Not after what I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr choked down the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat. “I stand by what I said earlier. You are not monster. You are someone who has been through more than what most people go through in their entire lifetime. For that you deserve help. That is why we can’t just ‘let you go’ as you say. You say all that is left of you is bad, then let us help you find good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane fell silent for a solid minute, the broken skin on their knuckles beginning to heal before Piotr’s eyes, bones shifting back into place underneath the skin. If it wasn’t slightly gag-inducing, then Piotr would have thought it interesting to see their healing factor at work.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you help me?” They asked, still not able to meet his gaze. They flexed their healed hands and stuffed them into the sleeves of their sweatshirt, effectively hiding them from view. “I’m a total head case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the Professor, and Jean and Doctor McCoy -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think they’re all afraid of me, especially now.” Lane interjected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Wade and myself,” he continued. “They are not afraid of you, Lane. I know I am not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be. I nearly turned you into pencil lead.” They muttered, adjusting themself on the floor and pulling their knees up into their chest to form into a small ball. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr chuckled at that. “It’s okay. I must admit, at first look I really didn’t expect you to be so…ferocious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes, and Piotr could make out the barest impression of a smirk on their lips. Their eyes were rimmed with red, but no tears had fallen past the dark circles under their eyes; more than anything, they just looked exhausted.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting all those memories back of all these crazy things I did, it doesn’t feel real. A total disconnect between what I think my body is capable of and what I can do now. I mean, shit, you’re what, eight feet of chrome and muscle? And I went up against you?” They shook their head. “I really must be a head case.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven feet.” He corrected. “And you are not headcase.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mistake.” They bit the inside of their cheek, looking away from his gaze. “You really mean all that stuff? About...thinking there’s still good inside me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and gave them a small smile. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Konechno.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You just apologized for beating me in fight. Bad people do not apologize for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane sighed and relaxed their grip on their knees, unfurling from their tight ball. “I wouldn’t say I beat you. I think calling in robots for backup is technically cheating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lane seemed satisfied with that answer and nodded as well, some of the tension leaving their shoulders as they did so. “Can you tell the Professor I'm sorry for punching his walls?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure that he will forgive you.” Piotr said, getting to his feet. “Worse has been done to this house. Come, let’s get you back into bed. Enough excitement for one day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly enough, Lane put out their hands for him to pull them up. Touch was another barrier that had been difficult to approach; so far, Wade had been the only one that they wouldn’t flinch away from. He hesitated for a moment before taking their hands into his own and gently hoisting them to their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” they muttered, slipping back onto the mattress. “You never really answered me before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About why you bothered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone is interested in seeing you recover. Ororo, Scott, Wade,” he began to list off names, but Lane shook their head and he fell silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I mean, Wade and I are friends, but you and I...we’re practically strangers. Ororo and Scott come in, check on me when they’re supposed to and talk to me, but it kinda stops there. You…” Lane paused, scrunching up their brow. “You’re different. I mean, shit, you came in here when I could’ve really hurt you. I don’t think they would have done that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was right thing to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a cop out answer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is true. Besides,” Piotr pulled up the sheet for them, and then pulled at the blanket at the foot of their bed, “you promised me Star Wars, and I promised to teach you. We cannot do that if you are injured.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It may be awhile until I get out of here. After, y’know.” They gestured to the corner they had been facing minutes earlier. Sure enough, there were small, fist size dents and a smattering of blood on the metal. “I think I have some stuff to work through first. A lot of stuff, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piotr nodded in understanding. “I am patient man, and healing is important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like a fortune cookie.” Lane mumbled, wrapping up in the layers of fabric and settling back down onto the pillow. Their eyelids were beginning to droop, features softening into something akin to peacefulness. “A giant metal fortune cookie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Idti spat.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Russian for ‘shut up’?” They asked, yawning and nestling further into the blanket they had cocooned themself in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it means go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they did. Breathing slowed, eyes shut, looking calm and comfortable; Piotr smiled and left them to their rest. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so, already this month has been pretty crazy in terms of just...events going on, so I was a little hesitant to post anything. I think it's really important to be paying attention to stuff that's going on out in the world, even if it isn't always easy to look at. </p><p>Eventually I finished this final chapter, so here we are. More stuff will be coming in the future, it just might be a bit. Thank you to everyone for your continued love anad support of this work and my others, and please stay safe out there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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